


Touch Me (Just Like That)

by haiplana



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-24 02:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15620775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haiplana/pseuds/haiplana
Summary: Charlotte decides to break the spell that rests on Isabella.





	Touch Me (Just Like That)

**Author's Note:**

> My take on what happened after that beautiful Fitzwells scene.
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes.

The small smile Charlotte Wells was able to pull from within Isabella was gone in an instant.

“No one has ever touched me since,” Isabella said. Her blue eyes, still staring intently into Charlotte’s, grew sad. “No one ever will.”

Charlotte felt her chest ache even more as her grief for Isabella constricted her heart. Each new detail she was learning — the lost daughter, the sordid acts against her by her own _brother_ — added to the tragic story of this woman she found herself caring about. She looked to Isabella’s lips, then tentatively back to her eyes. Charlotte sat forward, her hand moving before she had even made up her mind, and placed her palm gently on Isabella’s cheek. Isabella’s eyes widened, her gaze dancing between Charlotte’s roaming eyes and her moving lips.

Charlotte stroked her fingers beneath the curve of Isabella’s jaw. “Why should you forever be alone? Let me break his spell.”

They froze for a moment, the crackling of the fire dying down, the air stilling. Then Isabella closed her eyes, and Charlotte pulled her forward. Their lips met gently. Charlotte was at first resolute, but she soon feared that she had been wrong, that this was not what Isabella wanted or needed. Isabella slowly lifted her hand and placed her hand over Charlotte’s, and Charlotte knew all was well.

Charlotte was emboldened. She shifted closer on the chaise and pressed harder into Isabella. In turn, Isabella let her hand travel over Charlotte’s wrist. Her touch was light and sent a shiver through Charlotte’s spine. Her palm grasped Charlotte’s shoulder, her fingers each pushing into the muscle there, coaxing Charlotte closer.

It was all too soon before a gleeful shout came from the kitchen, reminding them that they were in the parlor and were only afforded so much privacy.

When Charlotte pulled away, she let her eyes rake over Isabella. A blush had spread over her high cheekbones, her plump lips had become even plumper. Her eyes were dark and enticing. She looked perfect enough to be a doll, and though Charlotte wanted to preserve the way Isabella looked in this moment, she had a deep urge to free Isabella’s hair from its ridiculous courtier style and pull the curls out, one by one. She wished to leave lipstick trails beneath the pearls at her neck, she longed to remove the bows and stays of her dress and to _see_ her.

“Come,” Charlotte said as she stood, smoothing her dress and holding a hand out for Isabella to take.

Isabella’s brow furrowed. “To where?”

“A room upstairs.”

“I have no money. I cannot pay you,” Isabella said. Her eyes fell to the floor.

“This is not for work.” Charlotte slowly dropped to her knees in front of Isabella and leaned up to kiss her. “This is for pleasure.”

“You pity me,” Isabella whispered, though she took one of Charlotte’s hands, as the other had returned to its rightful spot on her cheek.

Charlotte shook her head. Her eyes were wide, imploring. “What I mean to do for you is not out of pity.” She kissed Isabella’s lips. “It is out of admiration.” She pressed her lips to the side of Isabella’s neck, just beneath her jaw. “It is out of caring.” She kissed the other side. “It is out of desire.”

Isabella looked down at Charlotte, her lips spread ever so slightly. She rose, slowly, and Charlotte moved back to let her stand. Though Charlotte feared she would just leave, walk out of the house, never to return, she understood. She had presented Isabella with something bold and dangerous, almost unheard of in her circle. The lady had every right to refuse her.

This time, it was Isabella who reached her hand to Charlotte. Charlotte smiled up at Isabella before grasping her hand and standing. Isabella drew her into a kiss, wrapped her arms around Charlotte’s narrow waist. Their dresses kept them too far apart. Isabella let her lips drift away from Charlotte’s, over her cheek and to the shell of her ear.

“Take me to your bed.”

Charlotte grinned and did as she was told.

The room at the end of the hallway was dark, its powder blue walls not yet illuminated by candlelight. Charlotte shut the door gently behind them and moved to the table beside the door where a single candle and a box of matches sat. She lit the candle, then picked up the stick to take with her as she lit each candle around the room. As she did this, she noticed Isabella standing in the middle of the room, watching her.

“I can make up the fire, if you want,” Charlotte said after she finished with the candles.

“No need.”

The light flickered over Isabella’s face, and Charlotte was reminded of all the ways in which she intended to break Harcourt’s spell.

Charlotte stood in front of Isabella and ghosted her fingertips over her arms and shoulders. “May I undress you?”

Isabella nodded, her eyes full of the purest lust Charlotte had ever seen.

The topmost layer was the easiest to untie and remove. It wasn’t long before Isabella was standing in front of Charlotte in her petticoats and Charlotte’s breath was already growing rapid. She worked as quickly as she could, but was still gentle. Charlotte untied the petticoats and removed them down to the stays. She untied the hip pad and let it fall to the floor before working on the stays. She unlaced the bodice rapidly, paying no mind to where the printed fabric or the string fell. Isabella let out a breath in relief.

There were only a few more layers, and then Charlotte was pulling the white shift over Isabella’s head. Before her stood a beautiful sight; Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam, bare but for white stockings, arms at her sides, waiting for Charlotte. Her curves were defined, her stomach smooth and white. Charlotte could see hints of stretch marks around her navel and hips.

Charlotte kneeled, once again, before Isabella and pulled the ribbon garters so they fell from Isabella’s legs. She pulled the stockings down one at a time, allowing Isabella to step out of them without losing her balance. When she stood, she looked once more at the whole of Isabella, then tangled her fingers in her hair and sought for the pins that held it all together, taking them out until Isabella’s hair was free and wild.

“Now you,” Isabella said, barely giving time for Charlotte to run her fingers through Isabella’s hair.

“Would you even know how?” Charlotte asked jokingly. Isabella tapped her hip lightly, urging her to turn around.

“I’d like to try.”

Isabella pulled the overcoat off of Charlotte’s shoulders and unfastened the front, then untied the skirt. She went through the motions rather well with minimal guidance from Charlotte. Charlotte’s skin tingled more with each layer that fell on the floor.

Unable to wait any longer, Charlotte turned to Isabella when she was down to her garters and stockings, took her hands and drew her to the bed. She let Isabella lay down, and she fit her body beside her, holding herself up on one arm.

Isabella placed her hands on Charlotte’s cheeks. “You are angelic.” She let her eyes travel down Charlotte’s lithe, thin body. Charlotte’s skin heated under her gaze.

“Kiss me, Isabella. Please.”

Isabella tugged Charlotte down to meet her lips. They kissed as they never had before, as though they had left all their fears and pretenses outside the locked door. Charlotte was careful with her hands — she knew that Isabella might be scarred from the abuse in her past. But Isabella proved to be sure, and she herself pulled Charlotte’s hands to where she wanted them, and Charlotte was content.

“Be gentle with me, Charlotte, but do not fear me,” Isabella said quietly.

Charlotte’s hand found the space between Isabella’s thighs and pressed her fingers through the folds. Isabella sucked in a breath.

“I will stop if you need me to, with anything that I do.” Charlotte stared into Isabella’s eyes until the woman beneath her nodded.

They moved together, joining as one. Each stroke of Charlotte’s fingers, each flick of her tongue over Isabella’s skin elicited a breath that Isabella inhaled and Charlotte exhaled. Isabella’s cries began soft, like the low richness of her voice, but soon became louder and more drawn out as Charlotte coaxed her into bliss.

Isabella clutched Charlotte as she came, hips jerking, mouth searching for Charlotte’s. Charlotte marveled at the feel of Isabella’s body, tight as a coil, wrapped around her. She had never seen another woman come.

Their hearts slowed as Isabella relaxed into the bed, her head resting back on the pillows. Charlotte was straddling one of Isabella’s legs, and she noticed the slickness that she was leaving, and moved to get off of her. Isabella caught her with a hand on her hip.

“Stay, my love,” Isabella whispered.

Charlotte felt Isabella’s lidded eyes move over her bony shoulders, her protruding clavicle, her small breasts and flattened stomach. What Isabella couldn’t see, she felt with her hands, running her palms over Charlotte’s spine and lower. Charlotte’s hips moved involuntarily, and heat spread over her body, a blush forming on her cheeks and chest. Isabella smiled.

“I want to take what you will give,” Isabella said, and Charlotte whimpered. She hadn’t realized how much she longed to hear those words. She craved agency over her pleasure, she wished for a lover to do just as she asked, rather than use her or assume what she wanted.

Charlotte moved her hips again, this time with intent. She closed her eyes.

“Touch me.”

Isabella gently moved her hands from Charlotte’s hips to her breasts, cupping them. Charlotte continued to slide over Isabella’s thigh. When she needed more, she covered Isabella’s hand and brought her hand to the apex of her thighs, showed her where to press and what to do. Isabella, careful not to disturb Charlotte’s rhythm, lifted her lips to Charlotte’s chest.

Her fingers and teeth and thigh in tandem brought Charlotte her release.

Isabella kissed Charlotte’s heaving chest. “You are beautiful. Every bit of you is beautiful.” She continued to kiss each part of Charlotte that her lips could reach. “Lay with me, my sweet.”

Charlotte let herself fall again to Isabella’s side. They faced each other, naked limbs crossing each other, faces barely a breath apart. Isabella stroked Charlotte’s damp cheek and smoothed her hair.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” Isabella replied, her voice rawer but still velvety. “You have warded off my damnation, if only for a little.”

Charlotte smiled. “It was my pleasure.” She turned her head and pressed her lips into Isabella’s palm. She and Isabella looked at each other for moments longer. “Will you stay?”

“My brother will be expecting me home.” Isabella looked sad as she said it, and she shifted closer to Charlotte.

“You cannot go back to him, not now. It isn’t safe,” Charlotte said, her grip on Isabella’s hip tightening. “I’ll protect you from him, and together we can protect your daughter.”

Isabella laughed, a bit bitterly. “You are young and hopeful still. Nothing can save me from him. What will the courtiers think, of me taking safe harbor in a bawdy house?” The words stung, and Charlotte closed her eyes before pulling away from Isabella and sitting up. Isabella reacted quickly, though, reaching for Charlotte’s shoulder and pulling her back. “Please, Charlotte, I am sorry. I did not mean that.”

“I offer you safety from that vile man and you care what it looks like.”

“I don’t.”

Charlotte looked down at Isabella, saw how scared she was, and softened. “I want you. I want to keep you here so no one can harm you and so I can kiss you and pleasure you, but…”

“What?” Isabella asked. Charlotte straddled Isabella and brought their faces close.

“I am a harlot, and I will always be a harlot. You must accept that, and not condemn me for it.”

Isabella touched Charlotte’s lips with her fingertips. “Oh, Charlotte,” she said, “I do not condemn you but love you for it. I am sorry. I have been cruel, while you and the others in this house have been nothing but kind.”

“Then stay.” It was more command than request, though Charlotte knew Isabella was aware of the choice she had. Instead of answering, Isabella kissed Charlotte.

In the later hours of the evening, they lay beneath the covers, bodies fitted together. Charlotte whispered to Isabella how much she loved her body, how much she admired her mind. Isabella closed her eyes and let Charlotte’s words lull her close to sleep. Before she let Isabella succumb to the night, she poured water into the bowl beside the bed and wet a rag. Isabella whimpered as Charlotte spread her legs and wiped between them, before taking another rag and doing the same for herself.

She climbed back into bed and let Isabella pull her in and wrap around her. Charlotte kissed Isabella’s hairline before drifting into a sound sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@diana-prince-s](http://diana-prince-s.tumblr.com)


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